Green Is The Color Of Spring
by Pocky King Windy
Summary: REPOSTED- SLASH WARNING Gimli/Legolas/Aragorn - Gimli falls for an elf, but he's too afraid to admit it due to his less than perfect looks. Things get worse when Legolas admits to liking Aragorn. But do looks really matter to the Elven heart?


Green Is The Color Of Spring  
  
By Windy McDohl  
  
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed here belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The fanfiction belongs to me. It isn't worth the trouble stealing, so please don't bother. Thank you.  
  
Warning: This bit of story is slashy… Literally. If you don't like slash, please DO NOT PROCEED! I'm broke, so suing me isn't worth the trouble either. Neither will stabbing me though the heart with a wooden stake or pouring toxic down my throat help. SO, please take my nice little advice above and have a nice day! Thank you very much!  
  
NOTE: The full html version is up at my site and it's better to read it there... it's located in http://www.geocities.com/arc_angel_seph/fanfic/green.html/ The atmosphere there is nicer, don't you think?  
  
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The little pond glimmered in the thin sunrays, its water reflecting the light, making the ripples appear like golden threads woven in the air. They had stopped for a short break as their long journey tired them, and the lush green woods were a welcome sight after the vast plains they had just crossed hours ago.  
  
"We should set camp here," Sam suggested, rather longingly. After all, he was tired, as were his companions, though the sun had not set yet. His suggestion was greeted with a welcoming unison of voices, mostly among the three little people. Upon hearing that, the Ranger relented.  
  
"How do you take that, my friend?" he questioned Boromir. Boromir nodded, as he settled himself down beneath a stump of a once-great tree.  
  
"You?" he asked Gimli. The short Dwarf merely snorted, grunted, scratched his nose and flopped down onto the hard floor close to the pool. Aragorn shook his head, taking it as a "yes".  
  
"You, Sir?" It was the Wizard's turn to be questioned. The old sage smiled under his pointed hat and nodded, before shifting to a cool spot under a large tree.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"It's fine with me, thank you," came the polite answer. The Elf was busy settling down by the lakeside, stirring the cool water with his bare hands. It was a nice feeling, a cool, wet, yet refreshing feel of fresh water.  
  
Screams of laughter filled the air when the two naughty little ones (no one else but Merry and Pippin would fit the description, at that) stripped down to their birthday suits and dived into the cool dreaming pool. Drops of water hit the Elf's golden hair, some bouncing off and reflecting sunlight for a while before hitting the ground and vanishing completely, and some sticking to the shining threads like silvery beads.  
  
Gimli somehow was annoyed at being splashed at unintentionally, but at the same time he liked the way the droplets played an dreamlike effect of the Elf's golden locks. He looked so… ethereal, so perfect, that the Dwarf was dumbstruck with awe at the sight of the slender faery being.  
  
In response to the merry jesting, the Elven Prince shook his head slightly to remove the shining beads of water off his hair. The fair threads tumbled carelessly down to his shoulders, a little of it whipping the Dwarf gently on his face.  
  
Gimli took a deep breath, trying to draw the scent of the young faery being's hair up his nostrils. It smelt… as usual, sweet and very becoming of one so delicate as he.  
  
  
So near, yet so far…  
  
  
Gimli sighed wistfully, drawing back slightly from the Elf. His reached his palms up, catching some of the blond strands between his fingers, relishing their soft feel upon his chubby fingertips.  
  
"I'm sorry," the Elf half-turned to him, startled at the sense of someone tugging at his hair. "I didn't know you were behind me. But if it annoys you, you really should sit elsewhere… you stupid dwarf."  
  
"Aye, and the same goes for you, you mad elf," Gimli retorted. His eyes twinkled above his beard, as did Legolas' beneath his brows. It was their favorite game, waging a friendly war with their tongues. The two of them exchanged knowing grins, and turned back to their original positions.  
  
It was only after some time, when things had quieted down, when Gimli started thinking about his fate, his choice, and his path. He wondered why he had chosen to follow perfect strangers, people whom a good, normal, and wise Dwarf wouldn't follow so willingly, as he did.  
  
  
But he supposed he knew the answer well… Right beside his lips, about to spill out and threaten him were words that came from his heart.  
  
  
The two naughty ones were having a great time in the water, making a big noise, screaming, yelling and laughing. They were having a wild tug-of-war with the Elf, trying with all their might to drag him into the water with them. He looked greatly distressed, desperately clinging to a branch of a tree to keep him from tumbling down into the water fully clothed.  
  
But as luck would have it, Legolas slipped, letting go of the branch with a shriek. The two mischievous Hobbits grinned from ear to ear at that, and smacked each other's palms joyfully. But soon they were brought back to reality when they heard no splash.  
  
"…No… splash?" The duo looked confused.  
  
"No splash," the Dwarf replied casually. In his sturdy arms was the Elf, blushing to the roots of his hair. He got up quickly, embarrassed but grateful for being spared of his calamitous ordeal.  
  
"Thank you," he called out to the Dwarf's retreating back. The bearded man simply waved his hand, and continued walking to the fire around which the others were seated. Legolas turned back to look at the two still-grinning Hobbits and shook his fist at them in mock anger.  
  
"You monkeys!" he exclaimed. "Never again, I tell you!"  
  
"You liked that, didn't ya?" Merry asked innocently. At that question, the Elf proceeded to turn an interesting shade of colors. Their wicked grins got wider upon seeing the change in his mood.  
  
"Indeed I do," he replied somewhat crossly, folding his arms protectively round himself. The Hobbits in the water laughed out loud.  
  
"He does, he does!" they cheered.  
  
"Oh, enough of your childishness." The Elf started to walk away, flushed. But secretly, inside, he was nervous…  
  
…Giddy?  
  
Ah, to feel can be a blessing or a curse.  
  
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He could never possess one of such beauty like that. He wasn't fit for it; he didn't deserve it.  
  
Alas! Poor Gimli! What his heart desired couldn't be obtained. Not in his lifetime. Not like this. He was… He was ugly… no, hideous! What would a beautiful, dreamy, delicate faery being want to do with him?  
  
To give up immortality for a human was unthinkable…  
  
But to give up immortality for a Dwarf?  
  
It was downright despicable.  
  
Gimli knew it. As much as he liked the Elf, as much as their friendship blossomed, Gimli knew that he could never obtain the Elf's heart. Legolas was much too high a standard to busy himself with he, Gimli, the Lord of Dwarfs. A Dwarf, Gimli could picture Legolas saying, a dwarf! How priceless!  
  
But still, Gimli's heart all the same felt like betraying him. Why shouldn't he even try? Why shouldn't he tell the Elf about his true feelings? Surely it wasn't much greater a loss than it already is not telling him!  
  
His quick (?) Dwarf senses picked up a sound of quiet footsteps. He whirled around, his hands gripping tightly at his axe, expecting danger, ready to battle. But viola! Out of the green woods came not a foe, but a friend.  
  
"Were you expecting someone else?" the Elven Prince strode up to him evenly composed. In his wood-green Elven eyes were a merry twinkle, he being very much amused at Gimli's alarm.  
  
"Only one like you would pull such a clever stunt, you mad elf!" Gimli snorted good-naturedly. The Elf nodded at Gimli's good humor, and settled down quietly beside him.  
  
"And only you would fall for such a prank, you stupid dwarf!" he returned, also managing a good-natured snort, which surprised the Dwarf. They both then settled down, flashing big grins at one another, and, unknown to them, they were being watched by four pairs of curious eyes…  
  
"So, what are you thinking of, you stupid one?" Legolas raised his brows conversationally. The Dwarf replied with another one of his trademark good-natured snorts.  
  
"Life, what else, you mad one?"  
  
"Life?" the elf stifled a laugh. "Of all the things a dwarf would think of, you happen to think about life? Goodness! What ever has Middle-Earth come to! The End?"  
  
"What are you implying, you mad elf?" Gimli started to rage. "That I'm not fit to think right?"  
  
"I didn't mean that!" he backed away involuntarily, suddenly afraid. "It's just that… you do not seem the type to like thinking too much. You did say that many times, have you not? And besides, I believed that you never had much worries before, not at least to let any get to you!"  
  
"Aye, yes indeed," the dwarf replied, somewhat deep in thought. He picked his axe up and began polishing it with a rag.  
  
"I've been thinking too," Legolas said suddenly. "About life."  
  
"Oh?" Gimli lifted a bushy brow. "Have you?"  
  
"Yes…" he shifted his weight a little. "I may have lived a long life, however, there are many a thing not clear to me in 'life'. Mostly they are feelings, which I think is imperfect, for I do not know how to nurse them well."  
  
"Ah," was all Gimli could say to that statement. So, was this mad elf here to ask for guidance? Or was it something more? Gimli hoped that it would be the latter, but… well, what that could not be obtained was best forgotten. He looked up into the flecked green eyes and broke into a grin. "What of, you mad elf? I may be able to help you with it."  
  
The elf seemed grateful that the dwarf was willing to listen to his woes. He nodded and shifted uneasily. "I stay far, far away from the others… I seem to fear them much for company. You might have perceived it…" He hesitated, unsure of himself.  
  
"Go on," Gimli urged kindly. That seemed to relieve Legolas a little.  
  
"But it is not because I'm unfriendly, or the others are," he continued. "I like them much. Especially two who make the journey interesting… no, three! They make me feel relaxed at times, though, not wanted."  
  
"Not wanted?"  
  
"I do not feel wanted at all!" he sighed sadly. "In our midst are brave, strong warriors who provide the perfect defense, and a great mage who knows all… I do not feel like I'm one of them, strong enough or helpful in any way."  
  
But you are, Gimli wanted to say, you are special in many ways. But he said it not; he didn't know how to say it, to choose the words right.  
  
"But then I have these feelings lately," he added, almost smilingly. "They are very pleasant to feel. Very warm and comforting, as well as trilling. I feel it often when we are together."  
  
"We?"  
  
"The human, you and I," he replied. "I do not know why, or even what it is. But I feel it strongly when we are together."  
  
"Hrmmph," said Gimli. He didn't know what it was, either. "I don't know what it is, you mad elf, but whatever it is, it doesn't seem dangerous!"  
  
"It doesn't," the elf admitted shamefully. "But all the same, I'm worried. Sometimes I feel ill when I think of these things. Especially around that human."  
  
"Which one?" the dwarf was getting curious.  
  
"The one named Aragorn," Legolas replied in a rush of words. "He is very wise, I think!"  
  
And good-looking too, Gimli thought wistfully. Many a times he wished that he were human, big, though not very strong, but good-looking in nature. He knew that as a dwarf, strength was his forte, yet, to be human, to be good in everything, to be Aragorn, wise, kind, and strong…  
  
He now knew what exactly the elf was feeling, but he couldn't blame Legolas for being like that.  
  
"Please don't tell anyone," he begged. Gimli grimly nodded.  
  
"I swear by my trusty old battleaxe!"  
  
"Thank you for listening to me," the elf got up to leave. "Oh, but you're still a stupid dwarf," he added reassuringly. Gimli replied with one of his good-natured snorts, and bade farewell to the mad one. Very soon, he fell into deep thought.  
  
He had lost his only hope.  
  
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The next day they set of again as usual, with Merry and Pippin being their mischievous selves, acting foolish and loud. They seemed to have a new sport now, nudging the elf towards Aragorn, pushing and pulling at his legs. Once or twice Legolas almost fell, but luckily for him, he did not land on Aragorn in any way that would embarrass him further.  
  
"What is this cruel sport about?" he asked the Hobbits rather crossly. "I've done nothing wrong to you!"  
  
"You have done something unspeakable to my stuffed toy!" Merry replied in mock-accusation. "That poor thing! He was so traumatized! You know quite well that you can't fit into such small clothes!"  
  
The others laughed, and the elf found himself getting hot and bothered. "I've not seen your toy before," he mumbled under his breath. "And you are childish to bring such a thing along."  
  
"Oh, am I?" Merry pulled out a ragged-looking doll that looked very much like an ugly miniature Aragorn. Boromir gaped when he saw it, and guffawed loudly at the horrified Aragorn's face. Gimli broke into a grin, but it faltered when he saw Legolas' hurt expression.  
  
"You like him, don't ya?" Merry countered bluntly. Legolas turned red. He looked at Aragorn in the corner of his eye and caught his stunned expression.  
  
At that the elf stormed off to the distance, fuming inwardly, feeling ashamed and angry.  
  
How could they have ever found out? The only person he had spoken of that was Gimli…  
  
Gimli?  
  
Yes, Gimli. That dwarf must have ratted on him. Somehow he felt hurt and betrayed, though he knew that he had expected something of that sort to happen. Dwarfs were not to be trusted. Elves didn't trust dwarfs. They didn't trust humans; they didn't trust orcs, goblins, not Hobbits. They didn't trust anyone, and now Legolas knew why.  
  
His anger quickly turned into remorse, and his remorse in turn, into hatred.  
  
At a distance, he spun around to face the shaken company of wanderers. Hatred was now clearly written over his fair faery features.  
  
"You stupid, stupid creatures!" he screamed in rage; "And you! Gimli, you're a stupid, stupid dwarf! I thought you swore and oath and meant to keep it, but you did not!"  
  
Gimli was starting to get angry. He stood to defend himself and the others. "Well, then, you mad elf! How can you blame us! Have you thought that if I had kept a secret, it would be safe forever? And I didn't rat on you! It could have been your own telltale acts that showed clearly through! You're a brainless, idiotic, ungrateful little wretch of a Prince, how dare you blame us for your own wrongdoing!?"  
  
"So, it is true?" Boromir raised his brows, shocked. "I thought it was a joke!"  
  
"Gimli, stop," Aragorn hissed to the enraged dwarf. "You're only provoking him. And besides, he has a right to be confused and hurt. After all, to have a secret given away is a nasty feeling…"  
  
"I SAY THAT I DID NOT RAT ON THAT MAD ELF'S STUPID SECRET!" Gimli roared. "Get away, you stupid elf! We're better off without you, you worthless piece of nothing!"  
  
"So be it," he replied tremblingly, and fled off ahead into the thick woods. Frodo at once began to pursue the elf, but Boromir halted him deftly.  
  
"Let him go," he said. "He'll come to his senses later. We've got a long way ahead of us."  
  
"He'll be killed! The orcs will get him!" he shook off the human's hands roughly.  
  
"He won't," came Aragorn's answer. "He's a skilled fighter."  
  
At that, Gimli cringed inwardly. He remembered the elf's words well, his insecurity, his anxiety. But all the same, he was angry at the elf for accusing him of something he hadn't done. A thought struck him suddenly.  
  
"How did you learn of it, Merry?" he asked, looking directly into the Hobbit's frightened eyes.  
  
"I… err…"  
  
"We eavesdropped," Sam spoke up regretfully. He seldom lied or kept secrets from others. "We're sorry," he apologized.  
  
Sam was a good and kind Hobbit, and the others respected him for it. But Gimli, at this point, didn't. He roared in anger, and delivered such a hard slap on the Hobbit's face that Sam reeled back from the impact.  
  
"YOU FOOL!" he raged, his anger now uncontrolled. "How could you?"  
  
"We wanted to help," Merry replied, now frightened out of his wits. "Our- our method just didn't come out right!"  
  
"HELP? HELP???" the dwarf's beard seem to change before the Hobbits' eyes into liquid fire. "GO HELP US BY THROWING YOURSELF OFF A CLIFF TO RID US OF YOUR STUPIDITY!"  
  
"Gimli, stop it!" came Gandulf's resounding command. "We will be rid of none in our company. Our strengths and weaknesses are shared here, and not repressed. We shall work together as a team."  
  
"We are already lacking of one," Gimli argued. "What company is this?"  
  
"Don't forget that you were the one who scared him off," came Boromir's sound retort. "However, we should make amends. Let us hunt this 'mad elf' down, and settle this in peace."  
  
Gimli snorted, and grudgingly began to follow the departing group. They were, of course, turning to the way where the elf had tore off.  
  
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It was getting dark. Night was falling fast, and the sun was surely and slowly sinking into the horizon. Legolas started to feel afraid, but his elven determination kept him moving forward, towards their destination.  
  
He would beat them to it.  
  
The green woods that seemed pleasing to the eyes in the day now looked like ghostly shadows looming over him. There was danger lurking everywhere, he knew, and he must not stop. To stop to rest would mean a certain doom, and it was not a pleasant experience in any way… it wasn't a very nice way to die either, he added mentally. He wanted to kick himself for getting angry and straying away from the company, but alone or not, he believed that he could make it.  
  
It was then when he heard shrill shrieks in the night. It made his hair stand on end, for he knew what or whom they came from.  
  
Orcs.  
  
Countless numbers of orcs. And all prepared for battle, armed to the toes.  
  
Silently he drew out an arrow from his quiver, and prepared to fight for his life…  
  
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"Did you hear that?" Frodo looked up suddenly. His companions were suddenly alert too, for they had heard the screams.  
  
"Orcs," Aragorn furrowed his brow; "But too far away to have traced us. Yet their cries sound like war cries… What if…?"  
  
The Hobbits had turned ashen faced. They knew that only one thing could have happened. Their elf-friend was in danger.  
  
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Legolas swept deftly into the trees, confident that it was the safest place for him to be. His arrows were getting less, and the orcs were definitely in strong fighting numbers. Swift and light-footed as he was, Legolas was getting tired and weary. He had, after all, run a long way without stopping for rest. And now he was forced to fight nearly half a thousand foul beasts.  
  
A talon slashed at his feet, sending blood gushing out. He nearly cried out in both pain and alarm, but thought the better of it. It shocked him so… iThey could climb!/i  
  
He would not let them know that he was hurt. That would only serve to heighten their fighting spirits and bring death. Determinedly, he drew out his short sword, which he had kept out of sight strapped on his belt under his robes, and hacked at one orc that dared to stray up his tree. It caught it right in its eye, and with a shriek of pain, it let go of the branch and tumbled below. Enraged, its comrades started clawing at the tree, trying to reach the elf, but many fell in the process, for either they were too heavy, were shoved off by their fellow companions, or were wounded and stabbed by Legolas.  
  
However, they knew too, that the injured elf would not hold out any longer. They had smelt his blood, and in it, they had smelt victory as well. The prize was theirs for the taking, and they rejoiced for it was an elegant faery creature that they would have ensnared in their wicked claws.  
  
Fleet-footed as he was, high in spirits as he was, Legolas himself knew that doom was just around the corner. They were strong, vile creatures, these orcs; very untamed and unforgiving was their nature. To hurt one orc was to invite a painful death in attacking numbers.  
  
Frantically, he hacked and slashed at as many orcs as he could, silently praying that somehow a miracle would happen and that he would be safe…  
  
A blow struck him suddenly on his head, and he felt his world go hazy, in shades of red and black. He tumbled off the branch, albeit disorientated, but continued to strike and take as many orcs down with him as he could. He resolved that, if he were to die, he would die honorably, even if it were in the hands of an orc.  
  
Another blow struck him hard on his face, and another landed in his midsection, sending him from the hazy would of red and black to one of total darkness…  
  
"I'm sorry, Gimli…Aragorn, Frodo… I'm so sorry."  
  
______________________________  
  
  
"D*mn!" Gimli exploded; "D*mn that crazy elf to h*ll! Where in Middle-Earth could he be?"  
  
"He couldn't be far off, if he had stopped to fight them," Aragorn suggested. "Though I hope that he has not stopped to do that."  
  
"They are near," they heard Frodo say. They knew that he was right, as the blade of his was now a shining blue. "Hear the screams! That way!"  
  
They hurried down the path that was nearly congested with weeds and undergrowth, hoping that the worst had not happened. But their hopes were running low, for what they heard now was no longer battle cries, but shrieks of victory and harsh laughter…  
  
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"This creature, he looks so weak but he is so very strong…"  
  
"See how many of us he has slayed! Saruman would like his service, I reckon."  
  
"We should kill him, otherwise we will prove ourselves weak, and we will be executed in his place!"  
  
"Kill him!"  
  
"Kill the elf, drink his blood! We shall grow stronger!"  
  
"Spare him! After such a difficult victory, we should keep him as a slave and pet!"  
  
The orcs laughed, picturing the elf doing their chores and washing their feet for them. It amused them greatly, and with merry grunts, they decided to spare him.  
  
"Wake up, elf!" one large orc, presumably the leader, slapped Legolas' stinging cheek. Legolas did awaken, and when he realized whom it was kneeling before him, he retreated backwards.  
  
"Not so brave anymore, are you?" the orc laughed cruelly, pulling roughly at the elf's hair. He tilted the elf's chin up to face him. Legolas cringed back.  
  
"What do you want of me?" he asked in low tones, his voice weak and hoarse. The orcs' eyes gleamed with an evil delight at that question.  
  
"You are to be our slave now, your highness," the lead orc grinned all over his repulsive face. His claws traced down the elf's cheek and stopped just above the bruise. "You will treat us as your masters, wash and clean after us and do everything we tell you…"  
  
"I will rather die than to serve you!" Legolas retorted angrily, spitting into the orc leader's face. At that the other orcs broke into a round of laughter at their leader's shocked expression. It was clear that he had not expected such treatment from the Elven Prince. Growing enraged, he wiped the spit off his face and roughly shoved the indignant elf back into the trunk, causing him to cough out blood.  
  
"YOU WILL DO AS I TELL YOU!" he roared, in a way that reminded Legolas of Gimli. For a split second he looked at the orc in wonder, and reached a clammy hand out to touch the orc leader's forehead.  
  
"Gimli?" he voiced quietly. "Don't be angry, please…"  
  
"I am no 'Gimli'," the orc growled. "It is a stupid name. You shall call me Master, you being my slave from now on."  
  
"YOUR slave?" an orc broke the silence that had enveloped the band. "Isn't he OUR slave?"  
  
"SILENCE!" he roared again, but this time a little lower so that he did not frighten the elf. "He is MY slave, else you die, or get one of your own!"  
  
The crowd fell silent, and a few mutterings were heard amongst them. Pacified, the orc turned toward Legolas and hefted him over a shoulder. They started to walked in large strides to the way out of the forest, in the direction of another incoming party… Aragorn's.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
"I can no longer hear anything," Boromir declared, a little crestfallen. He turned toward Frodo inquiringly. Frodo then nodded, and glanced at his weapon.  
  
"They are still close to us."  
  
"They've got Legolas, then," Aragorn said, wiping his brow wearily. "Or is he killed?"  
  
"Then we shall avenge our comrade!" Boromir suggested furiously. "We shall show them not to mess with our company!"  
  
Sam halted suddenly. "Wait, sir!" he whispered loudly. "Do not make a sound! Did you hear that?"  
  
"Footsteps!" Merry hissed. "Grunts and snorts!"  
  
"They could be no other than orcs," Gandulf said gravely. "Come now, we shall prepare for battle!"  
  
He was right, they had nowhere else to run or hide. All they could do now was fight…  
  
  
The two groups advanced into a thick clearing; each had sensed the other's presence. They had their weapons drawn, and the orc leader stepped up in front of his men. To his horror, Gimli perceived the elf was unconscious upon his shoulder. He glared at the orc fiercely, his temper frayed, as the orc favored him with one the same as he.  
  
"Here is the prize," the orc leader hissed, grinning evilly. "I suppose that that is what we're both after now… as well as the ring and its bearer."  
  
"We shall fight you," Frodo stepped up firmly; "I am not afraid… I will not hand you the ring, my friend, or I!"  
  
"So be it!" the orc replied, unsheathing his sword. "War it shall be."  
  
He lay the elf down in the bushes, making sure that he was out of the way and harm. He then strode forward, wielding his sharp, dark sword.  
  
The teams readied themselves, an unfair number, nearly two hundred against eight. It was quite strange, for a team that had nearly half a thousand before, now numbered less than three hundred after just one battle with an elf. In his mind, the orc noted how strong and skilled his newfound slave was… and how that was all the more too precious a creature for him to lose.  
  
They charged head-on towards one another, and the sounds of metal against metal clanged loudly, resounding though the forest.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
It was dark… so very dark. Legolas felt afraid and alone… He felt cold. The darkness seemed to swallow up the light around him, like a thick blanket.  
  
He heard screams, cries of pain and distress in the distance, and recognized some as the calls of his friends. Panting, the elf rushed, tripping and stumbling over unseen rocks to where the source of the sounds came from. There was a bright light there ahead, and to it he ran.  
  
iGimli! Gimli,/i he called, but why he did he did not know. Neither did he care, for all he could see in his view of vision was the red-bearded dwarf that he had gotten fond of in his travels. He rushed to the sound, he ran, and ran, and ran… But the light, it seemed to get farther and farther away, growing fainter and fainter with each stride he took.  
  
At last it vanished completely, as did the sounds.  
  
Panic-stricken, Legolas let out a high-pitched, desperate wail that resounded through the darkness. He could not let them die; he would not let them die, for his guilt would forever cling to him for the rest of his eternal elven life.  
  
iGimli!, He called again, iwhere are you?/i The name of the dwarf bounded over the dark murky plains, but no answer yet came. Tears started to well up his eyes as he dashed further into the gloom. He tripped over one large stone, that knocked the breath out of him and…  
  
  
Awoke, screaming and struggling. A large palm pinned him down, but it was warm and reassuring, unlike his dream. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and peered into the concerned ones of a dwarf.  
  
"'You okay?" he asked the distraught elf worriedly. Legolas' skin burned at the touch, as he was having a fever. The elf nodded, relieved at seeing his fellow companions again. Then he remembered the orcs.  
  
"The orcs… Where…?"  
  
"We beat the crap outta them!" Merry piped up, swinging a stick like a sword, re-enacting the battle again. "Swish, swish! Swipe, swipe! WE GOT 'EM ALL!!!"  
  
"…I dreamt that you were in trouble…" came the quiet response. Legolas pulled his knees under his chin. "…I couldn't see you… I couldn't help…"  
  
"I feel… so utterly useless."  
  
The elf hugged his knees and began to sob, almost piteously. The rest were slightly taken aback. They had never seen their friend cry before. However, they now realized that he had troubles of his own.  
  
"You're not useless," Aragorn spoke up; "Far from it, even. Without your earlier initiated battle with those orcs, I doubt that it would have been such and easy and resounding victory. They must have bickered with their leader, and were disorganized… It must have been you doing that greatly aided us then!"  
  
Legolas remembered the event in a flashback. Yes, they had argued and their teamwork was disrupted. He looked back at his companions who were now crowded around him.  
  
"Thank you…" he started to say, when Merry interrupted him.  
  
"You really should thank Gimli more!" he grinned all over his monkey face. "He was the one who fought with most vengeance of us all!"  
  
The elf blushed a little, though unsure why he did so. "Thank you, Gimli," he said. The dwarf snorted and waved a hand carelessly.  
  
"You're welcome, you mad elf."  
  
"I thank you for that too, then, you stupid dwarf."  
  
For the first time that day, Gimli and Legolas exchanged grins with each other. The others looked relieved, and after they had rested a little, they started to walk on again.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
Gimli sat down by the creek, polishing his precious axe rather lovingly, his mind wandering off over the mountaintops that could be seen from where he was. His thoughts were far, far away, over the hills and dales, under the sea and sky - he thought of the argument he and the elf had had the day before.  
  
He had already been sure that hope of him ever holding the elf's heart was lost, but then, the argument had somehow made things worse, destroying their friendship that was the only way Gimli could get as close to the quiet elf as he could… as he wanted. It was never near enough, but, it was still something - it comforted Gimli even if his chance was thin.  
  
A sound of rustling footsteps was heard behind him.  
  
Gimli spun around, his grip tightening round his old axe, expecting to see an enemy. He relaxed when he realized that it was only Legolas who was making his way towards the sturdy dwarf. He flashed a smile at Gimli, and strode over to take a seat beside him.  
  
"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"  
  
"Aye, you mad elf, indeed. What brings you here?"  
  
"Can't fellow travelers talk to one another freely at times?"  
  
Gimli grunted good-naturedly… yet he felt a little hurt. So, was Legolas going to forever treat him as a 'fellow traveler' for the rest of his life? Somehow Legolas sensed the poor old dwarf's awkwardness and hurriedly struggled to make amends.  
  
"I'm sorry for making a fool out of myself and being so pigheaded," he apologized in one breath. "I didn't mean to accuse you for anything…"  
  
"Merry told you, did he not?"  
  
"He did… I feel very ashamed of myself…" the elf looked away sadly. "I really wanted you as a friend, Gimli. You are quite kind, though a stupid, stupid dwarf."  
  
Gimli's eyes lit up at the elf's mention of wanting him as a friend. Secretly he had hoped for more than just that, but… As long the elf didn't mind having him around, he would be happy. The dwarf turned to face the elf, rather seriously.  
  
"I hope that you do not mind me telling you this," Gimli's seriousness perked the elf up. He listened intently, for he now considered what Gimli said to be of utmost importance. "I hope you won't get angry… You see, mad one; I could not really see myself fit to befriend you in any way. I am sure that such a… 'dainty'," Gimli chose his words carefully; "creature as you wouldn't want an ugly, loud and strong headed dwarf as a friend. I can understand your feelings, you mad elf, if you want not my friendship…"  
  
"That isn't true!" Legolas stopped Gimli firmly. "You're my friend, a good companion and fellow sword brother! Indeed, I… I have…"  
  
"Even called your name out in my sleep…"  
  
Legolas turned furiously scarlet in his face, horrified, realizing that he had admitted the worst that he could have said to anyone on the face of Middle-Earth. Now, just as they had begun… no, when HE had begun to find a new friend, he was fast losing one. He looked helplessly at Gimli, who had the… blankest expression that had ever crossed a dwarf's face before.  
  
Gimli gaped at the elf.  
  
He had…?  
  
That crazy elf?  
  
He would have gotten angry, or even laughed at the elf's words were it a few years ago, but now Gimli was not too sure of how he would react. He continued to gape, till at last he found his tongue.  
  
"You… You couldn't be possibly serious, Legolas," his voice was strangely broken. The thoughts that he had harbored days ago now resurfaced and were fast taking hold of his self-esteem. "I am… an ugly, no, hideous little beast, whom had also scorned you and broken your heart. Much as I wished otherwise, I do not feel worthy of your… affections."  
  
"You… wanted me to like you?" the elf's eyes grew large. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. Nice and courteous as he was, the elf seldom made many friends. He was a loner, and often skipped off alone to enjoy the solitude. But Gimli, whom he had bickered endlessly with, wanted him to like him?  
  
"Why did you not tell me?"  
  
"As I mentioned before, I am unsightly, and not fit to befriend an elegant Elf Lord like yourself," Gimli said, albeit bitterly. He turned away, now not able to take the pressure and scorn that he was sure he would receive from the elf.  
  
But, surprisingly to Gimli, he felt the elf's cool fingers tilting up his bearded chin to land a chaste kiss upon his forehead.  
  
"Let me tell you then,  
  
That it is much easier to earn this mad elf's hand."  
  
With that Legolas walked off in the direction of the campsite, leaving the dwarf sitting beside the creek, stunned.  
  
Gimli lifted his palm to touch where he had felt the elf's tender lips before, his eyes lighted up with his dwarfish glow of hope, and smiled into the distance where he had seen the elven-green eyes last.  
  
He then knew, that green was the color of spring.  
  
________________________  
  
The End  
_________________________  
  
  
Note: Meow hoo hoo haa ha ha! Meow hoo hoo haa ha ha! I can be SO evil when I want to be, can't I? Anyway, I don't suppose I write the best slash around, but I hope that it's okay. I mean like, slash to me is ONE BIG JOKE, to make me laugh when I need to. XD I'm horrible.  
  
Well, this is dedicated to my beloved Lady (and only she may know her own name!) Thank you very much for being so kind and supportive when times were bad, and thank you very much for introducing me to and inspiring me with J.R.R. Tolkien's works. I have written this in hope that you'll understand that I think nothing of outer beauty. You may not "be as beautiful" as you "want", but you are still my Lady and always will be. Once again, I thank you very much.  
  
-Windy McDohl 


End file.
